


In the Trap

by TurtleTotem



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Kings Rising Spoilers, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 10:38:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8053108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TurtleTotem/pseuds/TurtleTotem
Summary: Laurent waits for his "trial" to begin, knowing no one's going to rescue him.





	In the Trap

Laurent’s cell was comfortable, this time. Ios was old and rich and political enough to have the right places to put the right sort of prisoners. The bed was soft, and there was a fire in the little grate. No one came to dislocate his joints.

But there were still bars on the door, immune to all forms of scheming and manipulation. A more comfortable trap than his last one, but it promised to be more final, in the end.

_I saved him_ , Laurent thought, the one sentence he could cling to in the soft bed, telling himself he was shivering because the fire had burned low, and not because he was afraid. Damen was safe, and the abstract knowledge of that would have to be enough, because he would never see him again to confirm it in person.

His uncle would leave nothing untouched, tomorrow; Damen would be dragged through the mud with all the rest, every fact twisted into its worst possible version. But it wouldn’t change the truth. _Damen **drew steel in the Kingsmeet** for me, uncle—because of what you did to me. It happened, and I will always know it happened, whatever you do to me now._ Knowing that there was just one living person who would have protected him, who would do it now if he could—it was an irrational and pointless thing to take comfort in, but Laurent was in no position to be picky about his comforts.

He could pretend… perhaps it would do no harm to pretend. He had never done that sort of thing before meeting Damen—fantasizing, imagining he could have something he couldn't—but Damen had taken some tight-coiled part of Laurent and unraveled it, made it exposed and unsafe and uncontrolled. One of the many reasons to hate Damen, none of which would _stick_ when he tried.

So he pretended, imagined how it might be, if he heard the sound of swords clashing somewhere down the stone halls. Imagined Damen running to his door with a stolen key—no, forget the key, Damen would simply tear the door from its hinges with his bare hands, a mental image that made helpless, melting heat pool in Laurent’s gut because he was a _fool._ He would cast the door away and rush inside, his face haggard with relief when he saw Laurent unharmed, and he would throw his arms around him and kiss him in that stupid way, as if Laurent was the only thing he had ever wanted…

Laurent dragged himself out of the fantasy, gasping at the pain of remembering that it wasn’t real, that Damen wasn’t, couldn’t be here. He had bought Damen his life; it was all he could do, and all he could ask for, and he _hated_ himself for ever thinking he might not have to do this alone. It was never going to be that way. Whatever path Laurent took was always going to end here—alone in a trap, wondering how much his uncle was going to make him suffer before he’d let him die.

He closed his eyes, and tried not to imagine anything at all.


End file.
